Artemia: Goddess Of Reflections
by Balandria
Summary: It's sort of hard to make a summary for this without giving away the plot. Oh, well. A child is born, abandoned and brought back to life as she sees her reflection for the first time.


I wrote this for my Mythology class last semester. I decided not to edit it from the version I made for my class. I'm not used to the mythology format that seems so, er, distant I guess. Like someone who cares less is observing someone. Like that. Eh, I tried, anyway. The assignment was to create your own deity and write a story about them. And have a moral to the story, of course. Well, here's mine.

Disclaimer: I own only Cenobia/Artemia and her story. Everything else--like the douche she married--is up for grabs.

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The story of Cenobia.

The baby girl whimpered in her father's arms. She had just been born. The mother had already rested and was waiting for her daughter impatiently.

"Astonishing." The father whispered. The mother's curiousity and impatience peaked.

The father handed over their daughter. The young lady cradled her daughter, crooning little compliments to the child. A baby girl with straight, smooth near-black hair that hung like a halo around her face, had already grown to an impossible length. She had yet to open her eyes to her mother. A little _V_ puckered between her eyebrows in concentration. This girl was far more mentally developed than the mother would have expected. Than _anyone_ would have expected.

The mother murmered an empty pleading to the girl to open her eyes. The girl obliged, understanding her mother's words. The mother gasped as she took in the sight. This little baby was staring up at her mother and her eyes were more focused than any child's should. Understanding, and awareness were clear on her face. But more than that, her eyes were the shock. Naturally a silver color, they changed colors in different slants of light. Not her whole eye, but just the part with color. The white stayed white, the pupil stayed black. The colors quickly changed. Pinks to reds to oranges to yellows to greens to blues to purples and back again. Colors that had never even been imagined showed in the child's eyes.

This frightened the mother. The mother's expression turned guarded and confusion showed on the child's face, the little _V_ on her face puckered again. The mother didn't want the child. She convinced her husband to leave the baby. That _they_ should leave. Her husband agreed with her. Despite his fascination in his daughter, he didn't want to leave his wife. The child meant nothing in comparison, it didn't hurt to leave her--besides, they could always have more.

They left the child behind in their small house with little to eat. The comprehension was clear, she had been ditched. They left nothing personal behind for her except for the name _Cenobia_.

She wasn't the type to not have company, or rather, company followed her whether she liked it or not. Her lone living arrangements at the house had been changed the next day. A rich man happened upon the house and found the most beautiful baby he had ever seen. As her father, he was fascinated with her strange eyes but the fascination had a warmth to it. A familiarity. She took to him and became his adopted daughter, renamed Artemia.

She couldn't possibly tell them her actual name, for she was only days old. She grew accustomed to the new name and brushed Cenobia out of her memory to keep her happiness.

She was loved and pampered. Always was her personality humble and always was she spoiled by her family.

It was a happy life.

Around the age of twelve, she had happened upon something strange. A pond. She had drank water but never had she seen something like this. What she was really startled about was her appearance. Honestly, she had never seen it before. She was beautiful, beyond compare, but there was an edge to her look that frightened her. It didn't look like her. It didn't look like she felt. The reflection didn't comply with her reactions. It stayed impassive, a hint of boredom maybe, while Artemia was gaping at the other her.

She reached out to touch the reflection and the other side gladly grabbed her and pulled her under. She could still breath. She wasn't underwater at all. On the surface she was just a reflection of a wave with the looks of a girl underneath. An illusion. Flat, simple, expected. Here she was normal, but the images were beyond anything. Colors and sounds and sights were flying everywhere gracefully. Meshing together without effort. She lay on the surface of the water yet under the air. With the girl that looked exactly like her. In fact, there were many people there.

The realm of reflections. The World of Mirrors, however generic had a nice ring to it. Artemia, Lady of Reflections and Arts. Artemia flitted from pool to pool, mirror to mirror, painting to painting. The painting were more difficult. She could not enter paintings about anyone, they had to be of her.

She was more sought after than anyone else. Her beauty inspired artists while the Muses were useless to the blocks. People begged her to be their model. She still had the look of a twelve year old. She started aging each time she left the other realm. Her visits were brief.

One day, Artemia recognized an artist. She didn't regonize him in particular though she took notice. He was young, a few years older than her. His shop was filled with beautiful paintings. The most beautiful she had ever seen. Then she did a double-take, they were of _her_. He blended colors perfectly and made them seem nearly that of the reflection realm. So clear and refined. So _sharp_. Then she focused on the artist, off to work on another painting. He had wavy hair, the color of dark gold, that cut off at his chin. His eyes were a burning ice. Clear blue that reminded her of the sky only harsher. Clearly dedicated to his work.

She _had_ to model for him.

She introduced herself and though he was very surprised from meeting a goddess in person, they became fast friends. He enjoyed painting pictures of her and she enjoyed the outcome. They eventually fell in love. More with the material possesions than the actual people. Artemia loved him for his beautiful work and he loved her for her beauty that brought life to his paintings.

So they married.

Though she loved her husband, she couldn't stay away from the Realm of Reflections. She spent most of her time there. Her husband became angry with this and demanded that she stay with him. She couldn't oblige. To be seperated from the other Realm would be like losing her actual home. Because of him she had already begun to age more rapidly due to her extra time in the human world. So she left, not permanently but just to sort her thoughts out. During her absense, her husband began a new painting.

The painting showed Artemia hover above a pond while arms shot out of the water and tried to drag her in. This drew Artemia back home. She had never seen a painting like this. She had not thought through her decision because once she had, it was too late. Artemia entered the painting and took the place of the paint version of her, the hands from the lake trapped her and held her in place. Her husband had desposed of as many paintings of her that he could find. Artemia couldn't escape, and that was what her husband wanted. Artemia stayed in the painting and her husband would stare at her all day until he finally died. The painting was found, traded, lost, faded, found again, lost again. Gone through the ages, the painting could be anywhere with Artemia's trapped soul inside.

The moral of the story: You should get to know people beforehand so you don't make any stupid decisions. If she had realized what kind of man her husband was, then Artemia might be wandering around still instead of being trapped. Or to put it even more simply, don't talk to strangers. =D

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A/N: Tell me what'cha thought. It'd be much appreciated! Thanks guys.


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